Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Disclosed


The waiting has begun. After receiving a contingent offer of employment from the USPS, I have taken the next steps required to keep the flow moving.
Yesterday, I took a drug test, that was the easy part.

Two nights ago, I spent the better part of three hours detailing my criminal background to a website hired by the postal service to do their background checks. This was not ideal. I had two hopes for the process: 1. That they would only ask for information relevant to criminal activity in the past seven years. 2. That I would get to talk with an actual person about my past, that would have compassion and empathy, and would be impressed by all of my hard work since, and would surely grant me a chance at a career with the feds. Neither of my hopes happened, and I am patiently awaiting a decision—possibly from a robot—about the rest of my life.

I don’t usually get negative on my posts, but this winter has been very harsh on me financially, and I am counting on a career move to keep me afloat. I cannot survive on part time alone, but as I was filling in all necessary explanations for my criminal life, I thought about them—being in their shoes. Why would I hire somebody with such a checkered past when there are literally thousands of applicants who simply check the “no” box, and move on? Arson, meth, drinking and driving? No thanks.

In my current job, there is no room for advancement. Even if there were, it would require an amount of work that would kill me. I’m running out of steam, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if I am turned down, I will still have to get through another two+ months of four-days-per-week, which is enough to pay most of my part of the bills. Amanda has recently paid off her car loan and is able to assist more than usual, but still we will be in a credit card mess when the time comes.

I have sacrificed so much to be where I am today, and it seems that the reward is debt and struggle. I know that my daily life is actually full of life, love, and laughter, but when everybody goes to sleep, when I am all alone with my thoughts, this is what I think about.

I hate the debt I created for myself when I was released from prison with nothing. When I moved out on my own again, I created more debt for which I am still paying, and when we moved into a house, well, the debt seemed to multiply. It’s been going down for a few months now because I make a lot more in the summer, but things started to turn around, and my next check will be enough to get by until the next. That check will be the one where I will have to break out the credit card to survive.

But we will survive. We will not be foreclosed upon, and we will still have everything we need. We will likely be forever indebted to many, but we will be safe, comfortable, and fed. It’s not ideal; it is what it is.

If they do accept me at the Post Office, well, it will come with a new set of challenges, but it will be steady work year-round. After a year the benefits will kick in and things will feel a little more comfortable—stable. But I have to count on the fact that for now, my criminal history will continue to be a burden, and I have to do whatever I have in front of me to continue to live the good life I have. And I need to remember that no matter how down I get, however terrible this mountain of debt seems, nothing could make it worse than that first sip of alcohol.

That’s the big difference between now and then:  I know what I have, and I know I can keep it where I used to have nothing, but constantly lost everything. I look at that sentence, and I see what I have, and I know… I know I am successful. I know I am a good man. And no matter what happens in the next few days, weeks, or months, I have people everywhere that love me, and I love what I have become.

And Counting

I remember vividly waking up at 5:19am, one minute precisely before the lights would come on; the indication that it was time to stand a...